One In Spirit
by bookwormtiff
Summary: "What I wanted to protect... was you." Tensa Zangetsu is determined to protect the now powerless Ichigo, no matter the cost. But even this is much easier said than done. Ichigo is a target, a magnet for trouble, and not everything can be fought...
1. Chapter 1

**One in Spirit**

**Disclaimer:** Bleach is Tite Kubo's.

**AN:** This is set a year after Deicide, but it completely deviates from the Lost Agent of the Shinigami Arc, though there will be some elements from it that I'll include. Think of the story as starting/taking place between the two. AUish, I guess.

**Summary**: "What I wanted to protect… was you." Tensa Zangetsu is determined to protect the now powerless Ichigo, no matter the cost. But soon he finds that even this is much easier said than done. Ichigo is a target; a magnet for trouble, and not everything can be fought…

…

"**Ichigo. Do you remember what I told you when this battle began? **_**What you want to protect is not what I want to protect**_**."**

"**What I wanted to protect… was you, Ichigo."**

…

_The Hogyoku… the Breakdown Sphere… What was it, really? _

_No one knew, and no one tried to understand. The Hogyoku was simply too complex a thing. But as a sentient being, it was fully capable of intelligent thought, and deeply hidden were unknown motives and an insistent, driving force; a will of its own. _

_It had its plans… _

_And even after its destruction, its legacy lives on. _

…

**dream.**

…

It was a dream… or was it? Ichigo couldn't tell. The line drawn between dreams and reality was very fine, the barriers indistinct, and he walked right on the brink, seeing things, hearing things, and experiencing things that were not there. Yet he was dimly aware of the real world outside; the pungent smell of the _natto_ Yuzu prepared blasted him full in the nose while he walked. Ichigo coughed and grimaced.

But he would not give up this dream for the world. There was something _important_ in here, something he needed to find out… something he needed to remember. He couldn't recall at all, and the occasional shadowy glimpses of dark hair and eyes did nothing to spark his memory. Ichigo found himself reaching for it, for _her_, with an almost frantic desperation, but the memories kept slipping away, and the woman with them.

He could faintly hear her laughter, light but gently mocking, and it was so achingly _familiar_ he almost called out her name… except he couldn't _remember_.

There was no option left but to go on. And so Ichigo walked.

A wide, tranquil sea of lilac stretched as far as the eye could see, glittering under the fog. It was frozen one moment, flowing liquid the next. Snowflakes brushed against his hair, and white ribbons twined around his arms, his legs, binding him and pulling him back.

And she drifted, slow and serene, always just out of reach, rendering all his attempts futile with a tinkling laugh and a smile.

He bowed his head in despair, briefly stopped to catch his breath…

"_ICH-I-GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" _

…

…The world shattered in a heartbeat.

Ichigo opened his eyes and sprung to his feet in a single quick movement, just in time to intercept the one and only Flying Cannonball of Doom hurtling through the doorway. Three seconds later and said Cannonball went flying out the window instead.

Hearing his dad splat onto the pavement below was strangely gratifying, but hearing the explosion of expletives was even more so. Honestly, what kind of father said _that_ to his children? Ichigo walked to the window and leaned out, earning himself a glare and kick-starting the sobbing.

"You're such a _horrible_ son! What did your awesome daddy ever do to you, huh? Oh, my _dear sweet Masakiiii_~"

"SHUT UP, OLD MAN!"

The dream was well and truly forgotten.

…

Breakfast in the Kurosaki Clinic was abnormally subdued, due to the fact that Isshin was content to quietly deathglare Ichigo under the wrappings of his bandages. Ichigo, however, was unconcerned, using the unusual peace and quiet to reminisce. The customary scowl was back in place, although the rice bore the brunt of it.

Yuzu clattered around the kitchen and busied herself with the dishes, while Karin glowered at her food as she ate, unconsciously mirroring her older brother. Said older brother watched her surreptitiously, and noted that while she kept up the pretence of eating, her eyes flicked alertly back and forth between things unseeable.

Ah. Since Ichigo had lost his powers, Karin had taken up the mantle. It was something unspoken between the two of them, a mutual agreement, and she seemed to be coping quite well. Although her own powers had not fully developed, her spirit sensing was better than ever, and she was well equipped to fight off potential dangers.

But… Ichigo was worried. He growled inwardly, and did his best to push that nagging, niggling worry down, but it continued to resurface, again and again.

Her lack of a zanpakutou left her vulnerable, even armed with the gimmicks that Urahara insisted on selling, and the high quantities of spiritual power she possessed made her a tempting target for any Hollow within the vicinity. Ichigo couldn't help fearing that a Hollow would seek her out, one much too strong, and then who would be there to protect her?

His frown deepened, and both fists unconsciously clenched.

Damn. He'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't have any regrets. But Ichigo hated feeling so… so _helpless_. So useless. There was nothing, absolutely nothing he wouldn't do to protect the ones he loved.

Though the point was… he _couldn't_ do anything to protect them.

Not now.

…

This was what he wanted. Right?

_Splash. _

Ichigo gazed at his face in the mirror, all wet and dripping, and wished that it were true.

The sky outside was overcast. The splashing sounded almost like rain.

…

This dream was different. He could feel it straight away.

It was utterly silent. Ichigo found himself standing on a long, smooth stretch of glass; translucent rectangular panes of the stuff glowed eerily white under his feet. A gentle breeze ruffled the tips of his orange hair and dissipated into nothingness.

Something vast and incomprehensible pressed down on him subtly, almost imperceptibly. Perhaps it was the emptiness, or perhaps the strangely oppressive stillness was to blame. The sky stretched overhead into infinity, bright and almost painfully blue, studded with wisps of cloud that rotated… _downwards_? Weren't clouds meant to travel from side to side?

Then realization hit, his jaw dropped, and he almost fell over from the shock.

He was standing on the side of a _skyscraper_. Defying all the laws of gravity.

Where the hell was he?

Instinct drove Ichigo to flatten himself against the windows, and after that brief overwhelming moment of nausea and panic and dizzying vertigo had passed, he allowed himself to gingerly look around.

And felt a sudden surge of _nostalgia_. He'd _been_ here before, he _should_ remember this, but _why, why, why…?_ It developed into a mantra, an intonation that pulsed and hammered in time with his heartbeat. _Why?_

His eyes lingered over the lone flagpole, and he frowned. _That was… _

Plip.

The first raindrop fell on Ichigo's hand.

The skies darkened even as he looked up, and the drops became a drizzle, the drizzle became a shower, and the shower became a storm. The murky clouds writhed and boiled in heavy purple-black clusters, and the wind howled forth its rage as the rain cascaded down in sheets, every tiny droplet driving into the glass with a single-minded intensity. The repetitive drumming was almost hypnotic; the steady _patapatapata_ increased in volume and strength until it all but filled the ears with a thundering roar.

Ichigo hunkered down and watched the rain trace silvery rivulets around his fingers. Something in him, the stubborn, rebellious part, was tempted to laugh in the face of the tempest; determined to defy the wind and rain in any way possible. But this time Ichigo could not. Something about this storm was not to be taken lightly.

Soon he was shivering, cold and soaked to the bone. His hair was forlornly plastered to his head, and Ichigo's shirt seemed determined to mould itself to his skin. But ignoring all this, he sat and waited.

Ichigo sensed that this wasn't over. Far from it. And he was right.

The storm suddenly _shifted,_ and focused into a single point. The air tightened, the tension rose. Screaming winds whipped the rain into his face, thousands of tiny stinging daggers intent on drawing blood. And the pain… the pain was excruciating.

But the _emotions_ contained within… _they_ were truly unbearable.

There was so much raw _anger_ in the turmoil, all misdirected but directionless. There was fear, for him and for others. There was that horrible bitterness, that aching frustration at being helpless, and finally the overwhelming drive to protect that it all stemmed from. It utterly consumed him, made up his very being, the core of who he was.

And then, the loneliness.

But there was love. Always that love, and that happiness. It was hidden so deeply within the turmoil, but once glimpsed, it became blindingly obvious.

_Images of Yuzu, so sweet, and Karin, so strong and mature. Isshin the Goatface; silly, but always laughing, always smiling. Fleeting visions of Chad, Tatsuki, and Orihime; a shared sense of warmth for the good old days. Various others that he'd met, and known. Had known. _

_And a small, dark-haired girl… _

They disappeared into the void.

…

How long had he been here for? It seemed like an eternity.

…

Sometime in the middle, Ichigo found himself screaming. Two words. One name.

There was only one person who could protect him, after all.

…

Ichigo shot up, sweat slick on his brow and dripping. Brown eyes blinked in consternation, and a hand moved to swipe away the wetness he firmly told himself wasn't there.

He felt… empty, somehow. As if part of his soul were missing.

…

Mechanical. His whole day was mechanical.

Ichigo went through everything like a well-oiled machine. He socked Keigo for molesting him. Laughed at Mizuiro's jokes. Bantered with Tatsuki and bickered with Uryu. Smiled at Orihime, and gagged when he really looked at what she was eating.

Orihime, to her credit, actually noticed his disjointedness. "Is there something wrong, Kurosaki-kun?" she asked, brow furrowed with concern.

He hated seeing her like that, and so Ichigo hurriedly assured her that he was fine, and didn't need any help.

"Are you sure? _Really_ sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks for looking after me, Inoue." He really was grateful.

Worries quelled for the moment, Orihime gave him one of her bright sunny smiles, and Ichigo found himself smiling genuinely in return, if only for an instant.

But he had lied to her. He was not fine; he was feeling absolutely crap and wanted to do something inane and stupid, like punch his head through a brick wall. The hollow ache had not diminished at all; on the contrary, it seemed to gnaw at him, dulling for a while before reminding him yet again of its existence. Ichigo had to grit his teeth hard and call up every ounce of self-control during those times.

He was also starting to see things, out of the corner of his eye. Hazy smudges and blurs flickered in and out of his vision, sometimes still, sometimes in motion. Strange flashes of white were everywhere, wherever he went. It all made him jumpy and extremely irritable, and was enough to put him in a foul mood.

What was happening to him? Sometimes Ichigo seriously doubted his own sanity.

The bell rang, signalling the end of another school day, and it was a blessed relief to finally sling his bag onto his shoulders and escape the stuffy classroom once and for all. It was a Friday, the Golden Day, and it showed. Smiling faces were in abundance, and most students were looking forward to nothing more than a good sleep in the weekends, or a good romp with their friends. Even Ichigo found it quite hard to keep a grin from his face as he farewelled the gang and set off home.

…

There was a prickling on the nape of his neck.

Ichigo ignored it at first, but he began to take note when the prickling grew stronger instead. There was a slight pressure in a long-disused part of his mind, a faintly ominous sensation that nagged at him and set the alarm bells ringing.

_Danger, danger, danger_. He walked onwards, carefully now, the grip on his shoulder strap unconsciously tightening until his knuckles were white and strained. There was no one else in sight.

Then Ichigo rounded the corner.

A blurred, fragmented shadow paced the walkway in front of him, no different from any of the others he'd seen. But Ichigo could _feel_ it; feel the malevolence rolling off it in waves, hear the alarms shrieking, shrieking in his mind…

It charged. One moment the thing was far away, at least a few metres back, the next, and they were face to face, almost touching. But Ichigo had no time to react; he was too shocked to move. Because of their proximity, broken sounds had begun to filter through, as if heard through a thick, dampening haze.

_Power… ohsooootasty… we're hungrystarvingSTARVING… power… Shinigami… feed us… feed usssss… _

It took only a split second but it was enough; the creature backhanded him savagely into a pole. He tasted something liquid, something sickeningly salty and metallic, and bit back a groan as the pain abruptly escalated. Blood trickled down his temple, spreading crimson on the ground, and oozed sluggishly from three deep gashes that cut across his ribs.

Claw marks.

_Shinigami? Claws… oh bloody hell, a Hollow! _

It was so hard to keep clearheaded when every gasping breath sent agony flooding through his system. But Ichigo pulled himself to his feet, forced himself into a defensive position, and forced himself to ignore the pain. He had to fight, because he knew what would happen if he didn't…

_He was drawn back to another time, another place. Standing in front of an undefeatable foe with only a baseball bat and his courage… _

_I don't even have a weapon this time_, Ichigo thought sardonically.

He drew himself up and yelled at the Hollow with all the strength he could muster. _Just as he had, so long ago… _Such a strange sense of déjà vu.

"C'MON! COME AND GET ME, UGLY BASTARD!"

Ichigo's voice echoed loudly, defiantly in the stillness. The Hollow looked at him, and a slow grin spread across its ghostly face…

"_You idiot." _

White streaked past, and a colossal force slammed into his back, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

_Shunk_.

The Hollow paused; the blade of a black katana sprouted, quivering, from its chest. Ichigo could only stare at it in shock. Something thick and viscous seeped from the wound like smoke, as indistinct as the creature itself.

Then the sword was yanked upwards, splitting the Hollow's head.

…

Just like that, it was all over.

All over. But…

His saviour was someone Ichigo had thought he would never see again.

"_Tensa Zangetsu?"_

…

**AN: **Hello, everyone!

Basically, there aren't enough Tensa Zangetsu fics out there, so I wanted to contribute a little. I think it's sad; he's such an interesting character.

Well, I hope it was a good start! Please drop in a review. Reviews are yummy, are very much appreciated, and are pored over for hours. And they make me happy.

The next chapter is coming, so check back for updates.

**Bookwormtiff. **

**P.S. **Anyone understand that Golden Day reference? Friday is (金曜日), _kinyoubi_ in Japanese, and as Friday is the end of the school week, it makes sense, right?

**P.P.S. **Should I really continue this? I was on the verge of trashing this, and only posted it because I was on hiatus for a little _too_ long. Don't worry, Tensa lovers, there definitely _will_ be a full-blown story fic for him, just maybe not this one.

…You can convince me with reviews! (I'm so shameless, right?)


	2. Chapter 2

…

**reunion.**

…

_He ran fleet-footed and light through the streets, an evanescent flash of brightness that only the most spiritually sensitive could see. But for most, there was the wind, carrying with it a sharp smell that brought back memories of the rain. _

…

"_Tensa Zangetsu?"_

Numbness reigned absolute. Ichigo could not feel anything beyond the pounding in his skull and a peculiar drifting sensation, a strange light-headedness. The cool roughness of the concrete under his palms was especially welcome, affording him a tenuous grip on the reality that he could not accept.

_This can't be. This… this is impossible. _

Yet there he stood, pale and slender, swathed entirely in gleaming white. Darkness hemmed the edges of his sleeves, and the single-horned bone fragment perched on his silvery hair, a broken remnant of the greater whole.

He was a study in absolute contrasts; a portrait of light and shadows, black and bleached white. Ichigo tried to speak, but then realized with embarrassment that he wasn't sure of what to say, wasn't sure how to address the being in front of him.

This was not Tensa Zangetsu. At least, not him in full. Two separate beings had fused in a merger of zanpakutou and Hollow, an unprecedented occurrence which left Ichigo questioning the very nature of the resulting entity. However, he was certain about one thing.

_You are… my power. Part of me. _

_Yet you've changed. I don't even know your name, not now. _

_Who are you? _

That question quickly received an answer, and it was so specific Ichigo wondered whether his mind was being read.

"Tensa Zangetsu was the name I used to bear. Use it."

_Well… you still can't let go of your old self, huh, Tensa Zangetsu? But nevertheless, you're not the same. _

_Who are you? _

"A being very different from whom I was before. What I am now, however, is not important."

The eye he then turned on Ichigo (_black-and-silver, unearthly, unnatural_) glimmered with a hint of mockery and almost-bitterness, and Ichigo suddenly remembered that the Hollow had never received a name. _Or an identity_. He felt strangely guilty at the thought.

But Ichigo pushed it firmly out of his mind and focused instead on staying conscious, which was proving to be no easy task. Injuries aside, the shock and the realization was only now beginning to set in.

He was back. _Tensa Zangetsu was back_. And how many things did that entail!

His old life was returning. No longer was he cut off. No longer was he helpless. He would be able to see _her_-

Ichigo stopped that thought dead in its tracks, and refused to take it further.

But then laughter swelled and burst, and the tears too; fuelled by the confusion of his emotions. It was a happiness and a relief and an aching, a rising longing inside his heart-

Ichigo coughed.

There was a sick roaring in his ears. The world spun, contorted, tilted momentarily… The sound rose, engulfed him like a wave, choked him and spat him out, battered and bleeding. Something cold and unyielding pressed against his left shoulder and side, and Ichigo suddenly realized that he was lying on the ground, helpless, watching his blood drain away from his body. A thrill of fear swept through him; _when had he ever been this weak_?

Slim fingers grasped Ichigo's wrist and jerked him upright, supporting him as he stood, swaying perilously. Only now was he aware of the heavy toll blood loss had taken on him; he could barely even move, and the ground was looking more and more attractive by the second. Vision blurring, chest aching, Ichigo raised his head, looking up, and up–

Into the eyes of an old woman.

Ichigo jerked violently. The chain of the Plus rattled as she skipped back from him in turn, triggering a surge of movement that flowed and rippled through the crowd of souls behind her. They seemed almost substantial, almost solid in form, yet not quite.

Their chains were severed.

Tensa glanced back, eyes hard, and the grip on his wrist tightened, for an instant. Ichigo blinked. Blinked again, and rounded on him.

"Where did they go? _What did you do_? Oi, answer me, Zangetsu!"

Every Plus had disappeared, as if on cue. But Tensa merely shrugged and turned away; a slight, insignificant jerk of the shoulders that served to say _I'm not going to tell you_ more than any words could.

Ichigo fumed.

"Well, then," Tensa remarked offhandedly. "I suggest we visit Urahara's shop as soon as possible, given the state that you are in."

He still wouldn't look at him. Ichigo nodded mutely and acquiesced, suddenly too tired to protest or even think.

The ghosts watched them depart with empty eyes.

…

The journey to the Urahara Shoten was a slow one, and arduous. This was much compounded by the fact that Ichigo could hardly stand, let alone walk, and Tensa's vice-like grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him moving. Ichigo had let him take the initiative once he'd ascertained that they were indeed heading in the right direction, and so had been free to drift off. But two phrases repeated themselves over and over, singularly removed from the mire and startling in their clarity.

_Did I really see those Pluses?_ And:

_How the hell does he know where Urahara's place is? _

The storefront of the shop appeared soon enough, small and unassumingly squeezed in between a few larger, more modern buildings. It had stubbornly resisted change; the wooden sliding doors were the same, and the sign proudly displayed above the entrance, with the shop's name writ in bold kanji, had been there since time immemorial. The sheer familiarity of it all caused Ichigo to grin in spite of himself; he hadn't been back for the better part of a year, and hadn't realized how sorely he missed the sight.

_THWACK_.

"JINTAAAA HOME RUN!"

And only luck saved Ichigo from a braining.

"Oh Jinta, not _again_." The voice, quiet and shy, came from a small girl with drooping purple eyes standing further afield. That, coupled with the distinctive split-tailed lock of hair, allowed Ichigo to identify her as Ururu, albeit a little older.

Jinta himself lowered his bat and scowled.

"Stop it," she continued, quickly making her way towards them. "You're _always_ hitting customers with that ball, and I don't even know if you're doing it on purpose anymore – Oh."

Ururu had caught sight of Ichigo, and her customary meekness returned almost instantly.

"Um… " She dropped her eyes to the ground, blushing furiously. "I-It's been a while, Kurosaki-san."

Jinta, however, didn't quite share her sense of decorum.

"About time you visited," he groused, and spared Ichigo only the most cursory of glances before turning his attention to Tensa. "And what're you? You don't feel anything like a Shinigami, but you're not human, either."

Tensa looked at him stonily, and an awkward silence ensued for one beat, two...

"Oh why,_ hello_ there!" A man unfolded himself from the packed earth where he had been sitting, picking up both staff and fan as an afterthought.

Kisuke Urahara had always been one for the theatrics. His long black coat splayed out behind him, and the ever-present striped hat shadowed his eyes with its brim, lending him a mysterious, even sage-like air. Or so he'd termed it. Ichigo thought it looked plain shady.

He also wore a large grin on his face.

But the grin disappeared entirely as he took in Ichigo in all his blood-soaked glory, and Tensa standing beside him. Urahara raised an eyebrow, shaking his head and tut-tutting at the state of Ichigo's wounds.

"Well, well, well. What's happened to you? If you're not careful you'll get yourself killed, spiritual powers or no."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Ichigo retorted.

Urahara stopped, looking at him thoughtfully. "No, actually."

And he hustled them all inside.

…

"Where's Yoruichi?" Ichigo asked, after a quick scan of the room.

Urahara's smile faded slightly. "Business as usual," he replied, and for a moment he looked the tiniest bit forlorn.

They were currently in the back portion of the shop away from the merchandise, occupying the small living room. It had been outfitted in compliance with traditional guidelines; several tatami mats covered the floor, upon which a long, low-lying table had been set, complete with cups of tea.

Ichigo leaned against the wall and watched as Tessai healed the gashes on his chest, muttering snatches of poetry under his breath while his hands glowed an ethereal green. Jinta and Ururu had since returned outside to play, as was evident by the _thwacks_ of ball hitting bat and the worryingly frequent crashing noises. Jinta's battle cries, in particular, were loudly audible even from where they sat.

Urahara contemplated the depths of his cup, appearing inordinately interested in his tea. Tensa was nowhere to be seen.

Eventually Tessai grunted and dusted off his palms, no longer glowing, and Ichigo looked down at his unblemished torso with some surprise.

"Finished," said Tessai. "Although…" He mopped his brow, wiping off a trickle of sweat. "That took much longer than I had expected."

Urahara leaned forward, eyes trained on Ichigo's face. "What type of Hollow was it, Ichigo? The one that attacked you?"

Ichigo frowned and considered. "I couldn't actually see it," he began, haltingly. "But… there was something. Well, it was pretty much a huge, transparent blotch hell-bent on killing me; a shadow, almost."

Urahara and Tessai glanced at one another, and Ichigo shrugged self-consciously, irritated.

"Yeah, I know that's not exactly helpful, but look, I couldn't make it out clearly enough to describe."

Still, there was something else. Ichigo hadn't paid it any attention at the time, being somewhat encumbered, but now it struck him as decidedly odd.

"And there'd also been a, a _smell_, almost." He thought back, and his nose wrinkled at the memory. "Like flowers and death."

There was no mistaking it this time; the startled looks of both Urahara and Tessai gave them away. A flurry of unspoken communication occurred, and then Tessai cleared his throat.

He chose his words carefully. "This ability you describe… is the ability of _reikagu_, "spiritual smell". It's the skill of detecting _reikaori_, or the "spiritual scent" of one's _reiryoku_. Wherever there's spiritual power, there's spiritual scent." He looked sheepish. "The only knowledge I have of _reikagu_ is from book learning, when I was studying kido and the various related techniques."

"And the ability is exceedingly rare in Shinigami, nowadays." Urahara studied Ichigo intensely. "As a matter of fact, you are the only Shinigami I've heard of in living memory to possess this skill. How long has it been since you've acquired it?"

"Uh, since today?"

"Well, then," Urahara nodded at Tessai. "As a test, what did Tessai's _reiryoku_ smell like, while he was healing you?"

Ichigo concentrated, and then looked at him. "It smelled like dishwashing liquid."

Tessai's expression was ecstatic, but Urahara's face was peculiarly distant; he was far, far away, deep in thought.

"Hmm," he murmured. "Who was that young man with you earlier, Kurosaki-san? Or rather, _what_ is he?"

"His name's Tensa Zangetsu." Ichigo glanced around again, but he was still missing. "My… zanpakutou and Inner Hollow…"

"Fused into one, yes." Urahara toyed idly with his fan, turning it over and over in his fingers. "I guessed as much. Therefore, the entirety of your powers, manifest in physical form, am I right?"

Ichigo half-shook his head. "He's back, but my powers aren't."

"Still, you've mentioned signs of _reishi_ detection… Well! How interesting."

A flamboyant flourish of hands and the fan was open, flapping somewhat triumphantly in front of Urahara's face. "It's a certainty that the physical manifestation of your spiritual powers was the trigger which initiated your _reikaori_ sensing. In particular, the Shinigami who gained this ability all possessed a unique understanding of their powers."

"However, _your_ spiritual powers haven't truly returned, which makes all this rather invalid."

Urahara's eyes bored into his, calculating and no longer friendly.

"I had better find your friend before he wanders too far."

And thus he disappeared, leaving Ichigo to stare after him.

…

_Urahara found him tucked into a corner, warily watching his advance with eyes that glittered like gems. _

So enigmatic_, thought Urahara with a hint of amusement_. _Who would have believed that Ichigo had such depths to him? _

"_Urahara." _

_He raised an eyebrow, hidden as it was under his hat. "So familiar with me already, Tensa-kun? Well, what may I do for you?" _

"_I need to talk to you. Could you do me a favour of sorts?" _

…

It was getting dark, and there was no reason to linger once Tensa had returned. And so it was that they found themselves making their farewells. Jinta and Ururu had long since gone indoors.

"Hey, thanks for everything, Urahara-san, Tessai," said Ichigo. Tensa made no attempt to speak, but gazed at Urahara with the full weight of mismatched eyes.

Urahara fluttered his fan flirtatiously in answer, just as Tessai inclined his head. And so Urahara Shoten retreated into the distance as Ichigo and Tensa began their journey home.

"Bye bye, Kurosaki-san! Tensa-kun! Come back soon!"

They looked back at the figure waving manically at them, and walked faster.

…

Getting back home was no problem. It was the _after_ that was painful.

"MY BABY ICHIGO-CHAN!" _Bam_. The door was enthusiastically flung open.

"Where _were_ you? You were _so late_ and I was _so worried_! WHY DON'T YOU GIVE YOUR DADDY A BIGGG HUGGGG– Mrffph!"

Needless to say, all Isshin got was a foot to the face. But then…

"O-onii-chan? Why've you got blood all over?" Yuzu put her hands to her mouth, horrified.

What subsequently followed was a shocking maelstrom of utter chaos, involving Yuzu bursting into tears, Isshin smothering Ichigo in his haste to check for injuries ("OH MY BABY'S HURT!") and Karin turning away, loudly disregarding the entire ruckus ("Pfft. A couple of scratches won't kill him."). Tensa loitered near the doorway, nonplussed, and Ichigo was heartily glad that he was invisible to all nearby.

Or almost all. Karin was staring at him, from him to Tensa and back, and she did not look pleased. Ichigo quickly flashed her an imploring look before he was bowled over once again by Isshin's overzealous administrations.

_Not in front of Yuzu_. There was no need to be worried about Isshin; Goat-chin would find out in his own time, if he'd care to look around.

Karin nodded in response and joined the fray, pulling them both apart and tackling Isshin to the ground. Ichigo had perhaps all of one second to feel proud of his little sister before being attacked instead by a barrage of questions. Most notably; _where were you, what were you doing, and how on earth did you destroy your uniform like that? _

"So…" Ichigo thought quickly and hard. "I got mauled by a giant cat on the way back. A _really humongous _one. Yeah."

Of course, Yuzu and Isshin were the ones to believe him. Karin rolled her eyes heavenward, instead.

Ichigo managed to extricate himself from their attentions in due course, escaping to his room with Tensa following sedately behind him. But he was forced to return almost immediately for dinner, much to his annoyance. Yuzu's cooking was superb as always, but it was rather tempered by Isshin taking full advantage of the situation.

"Daddy's still suspicious, because cat-attacks just don't take that long! I know from experience! There's gotta be something you're hiding from me, Ichigo. Hmm… You were at Orihime-chan's place again, _weren't you_?"

How did the man make even eyebrow waggles seem so lewd?

Ichigo groaned.

…

And so… it begins.

_Tensa lay back against the door of Ichigo's room, sitting on the threshold and waiting, always waiting. The night was quiet, and cold, and velvet dark, broken only by a thin stream of light from the sharp crescent moon. _

_There was a soft shuffling; a swish of trailing cloth against the floorboards. His head turned incrementally, precisely, ears trained for noise and suddenly alert and attentive. _

_It was Ichigo's sister. Karin, wasn't it? She was a slip of a thing, with cropped black hair just brushing her shoulders, tinted faintly blue by moonlight. She seemed almost a frail wraith in her nightgown, but no wraith moved with such determination. Karin was steel. _

_She settled down next to him, and together they mutually ignored the other. Until– _

"_Why are you here? What's Ichigo to do with you?" _

_Her whisper was soft, velvet too, but laced with the same steel that pervaded her demeanour. Tensa knew it would come to this, for this one girl, just as he knew that she would not go until he gave her what she wanted. _

"_I swore that I would protect him. Only him, no matter the cost. And so I shall, till death… and beyond." _

_The girl stared at him, wide-eyed in spite of herself, no doubt feeling the truth of his words but struggling to comprehend. Tensa smiled, grimly, bitterly; smiled still as she left him and returned to her room. _

_He waited until dawn, and then stood up. _

_There were things to do. _

…

**AN:** This story is hereby continued!

I am so, so sorry. Please accept this chapter as an apology, I hope everyone enjoys it. Bash me if you want; I deserve it. But life sucks when you want to write, and I had such a massive brain-block… The next chapter will be easier. And this story will be _long_. (This chapter, though… So much dialogue and exposition! But writing is such fun!)

A special thank you goes to everyone who reviewed, faved and alerted, especially to those who reviewed! If it were not for you guys, this would still be languishing as a one-shot, and this update would never have come. I was really about to trash this, but then decided against it.

Check my profile for in-progress tabs. And next time, if anyone feels that I'm going too slowly, please, don't hesitate to poke me and yell for an update! :)

Gah, _reishi_ and _reiryoku_ and _reiatsu_, my head hurts. (You won't find _reikagu_ or _reikaori_ anywhere, harharhar.) Urahara is interesting. Must write more of him.

Until next time! Happy New Year!

Bookwormtiff.


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